“All unit commanders on line, Colonel,” Cameron announced.
42
Dragoon Administrative HQ, Cerant, An Ting
Galedon Military District, Draconis Combine
3 January 3028
Dechan Fraser blinked and tried to focus on the face of the person shaking his arm. The pale skin and oval shape might have been those of Jenette Rand. Strands of hair brushed against his nose, making him want to sneeze. How could that be? Jenette's hair was cropped close and she didn't have a pony tail that hung over her shoulder to hit him in the face as she bent over him. Susan Lean did, though. She was almost as pretty as Jenette. She was ... Lean!
“Yeah, Lean. I'm not your dream girl, so you can let go.” Lean straightened up as he loosened his grip on her arms. “Come on, Fraser. Wake up. The Colonel wants all company commanders in conference.”
Lean stood in the doorway while Dechan slipped into his duty uniform. She tapped her foot impatiently.
“What are you waiting around for?” he asked. He wasn't used to being watched while dressing At least, not by a pretty woman with a scowl on her face. They usually smiled.
“Well, it's not for the show. The Colonel sent me after you. He's in a mood, so I'm not going back there without you.”
Dechan caught a note of worry in her voice, something deeper than anxiety about a potential chewing out. “It's serious?”
“You could say that.”
“If it's serious, this is no time to be coy.”
“You're right. Sorry.” She told him about the capture of the Hephaestus.“I think it's Hegira,” she concluded.
“Hegira? What's that?”
She smote her forehead with her hand. “That's right ... I forgot you're adopted!” She cocked her head and looked at him with mock severity. “What's the matter, foster? Did you fall asleep during the intro session when you made company commander?”
“No, I didn't,” Dechan snapped defensively. Foster! Who did she thing she was! The slang term was used for new ‘Mech Warriors until they had been accepted as full-fledged Dragoons. No one had called him that for five years. “I never had one. I got my star just before we left for Udibi. Things have been too hot since then.”
“Unity save us from too-busy Majors,” Lean exclaimed. “As a foster who made company commander, you should have been briefed. Hegira is the escape plan. Ever since New Delos, the Dragoons have been ready to run with the civilians if some dim-witted Successor Lord tries the hostage trick again. When the word goes out, we move.”
“That's what's going on?”
“Not yet. But I think that's why the Colonel has called the meeting. In case of a disaster, he calls together all officers on-site. Everybody from company CO on up has a say.”
“And if the vote is to go?”
“Then all Dragoons not under specific orders to the contrary will assemble at a previously determined, uninhabited star system. Once assembled, we will convoy somewhere safe.”
“But that would go against the contract,” Dechan objected. The notion of the contract as something sacred had been drilled into him during his early indoctrination to Dragoon discipline and procedure.
“Are you still asleep?” Lean queried, shaking her head in disbelief. “If we go with Hegira, the contract will already have been vaporized—by somebody else.”
The implications began to sink in. Dechan buckled on his sidearm. “Let's not keep him waiting, then.”
The two Captains moved at a trot through the administration building. When Dechan tried to turn down the corridor that led to the conference room, Lean grabbed his arm and tugged him on.
“Wrong way, foster.”
The Dragoon officers had convened in the communications center. Its facilities were being used to reach all Dragoon locations on An Ting. Wolf and the dozen other officers present were seated in a circle on the broadcast floor of the studio. Bright lights illuminated their worried faces. Lean and Dechan joined them.
Once seated, Dechan could barely see the banks of monitors that had been set up to face the seated officers. The rest of the Dragoon officer corps on-planet were attending via two-way video link. Each monitor carried a strip identifying the unit or location of the transmission's source. One row of screens was dark except for the white letters that read “Hephaestus.”A last monitor came to life, revealing the face of Colonel Jeremy Ellman of the Training Command.
“Now that you're on-line, Jeremy, we can begin,” Wolf said. The Colonel's voice cut through the hushed babble of conversation and drove it down into silence.
“I realize this is irregular, but we are unable at this time to contact the rest of the Dragoons. I require the advice of all command-level officers.”
Wolf paused, and the whispered comments of the officers resumed. Most of them already had a good idea of what the call meant. Wolf's words were merely a confirmation.
Lean elbowed Dechan's side in an “I told you so” gesture just as Wolf began to speak again.
“Gentlemen and ladies, we are in a difficult position. You all know about the problems we've had over the last two years. Our employer has been pushing us hard, but we haven't pushed back. But now they're trying to force us into actions that could be branded outlaw. They've been very careful, too. Everything they've done can be disavowed or explained away as the actions of independent parties. And we can prove nothing.
“For those of you who have not heard, Captain Shadd reports that the ComStar facility is barred to us. The Adept in charge is already referring to us as outlaws. We don't know if this is ComStar's official position or if the man has simply become the dupe of our local enemies. It doesn't really matter. Without access to the hyperpulse communications, we must rely on courier service to contact the rest of the regiments.
“We are hamstrung there as well. An Ting System Command is refusing all our requests to change orbit or depart for the jump point. They are referring all requests to the PSL office, which has suddenly become too busy to deal with the problem. All they've had time for is a warning that any repositioning of Dragoon aerospace or deep-space assets will be construed as hostile. Obviously, they do not want us talking to the rest of the regiments.
“I think you can all guess what they're using as an excuse.
“The Hephaestus,or at least some part of it, has been captured by parties claiming to be Kurita patriots. Major Blake's intel operation suggests that the hostiles were introduced as part of a batch of local technical talent taken aboard the station to supplement our strained repair force. They are terrorists. I believe that they are also agents of House Kurita. Again, the truth doesn't matter. The situation does.
“It's New Delos all over again. This time, it's on a bigger scale—better-organized and more ruthless. Twelve years ago, we failed in our oaths to protect our civilians, some of whom were taken hostage and killed. We failed our oath, but swore to prevent it ever happening again.” Wolf paused, giving dramatic emphasis to his next words. “Will we let it happen again?” he called out.
The outraged roar was a clear answer.
“Hegira?” Wolf shouted his question.
The room went silent, a silence louder than any voice.
Jeremy Ellman was the first to break the stillness. His face was grim and his movements slow, weighted by decades of a soldier's hard life. He stood and repeated the single word, “Hegira.” One by one, each Dragoon officer stood and spoke the same word.
Dechan, as a junior officer, was among the last. He didn't understand all that was happening, but he believed in the Dragoons. He had faith in his fellow officers. Trusting their judgment, he stammered out, “Hegira.”